They were all vying for a slice of the profitable Svengali business, all searching for the secret of Laura’s success. But like so many other bothersome weeds, they were pulled out of the corporate world before they could truly take root. Laura’s close administrators knew the secret that competitors sought, the aspect that made Svengali unique: Laura. Her hard work, determination, brains, style and even warmth steered every phase of the organization. Corny, yes, but also true. The woman was the company.

Everything had gone according to plan – until she met David Baskin.

The taxi slowed to a stop. ‘We’re here, luv.’

The Pacific International Hotel in Cairns was not far from the Peterson office. It was near the center of town and across the street from the Marlin Jetty where most of the sightseeing and diving boats set sail. The hotel was a popular vacation spot, ideal for those who wanted the tropics of Australia but did not crave absolute seclusion.

But the occupant of room 607 was not here to vacation.

The occupant looked out the window but did not notice or care about the breathtaking beauty. There were more important things to worry about. Awful things. Things that had to be taken care of no matter how tragic the consequence. Things so horrible that even the occupant of room 607 had no idea of their full scope.

And they had to be taken care of now.

The occupant turned away from the breathtaking view that past visitors had gazed upon for countless hours and walked toward the phone. There had been very little time to plan. Now, as the occupant lifted the receiver, there was a moment to wonder if there was another option left open.

No. There was no other option.

The occupant lifted the phone and dialed.

‘Reef Resort. Can I help you?’

The occupant swallowed away the terror. ‘David Baskin please.’

The meeting droned on steadily.